


Ghosts of Vengeance Past

by QtyBondGirl24



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Dogs, F/M, Minor Character Death, Not main pairing, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QtyBondGirl24/pseuds/QtyBondGirl24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silouette St. James is a murderer, an assassin, a mercenary, and a Freak. After a life of tragedy, she is broken and angry. But can some new friends and some old heal her wounds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Everyone! I’m Q-tyBondGirl24 and this is my story. I’ve been working on it for a while now and hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers (that’s Marvel), James Bond (that Eon productions and Ian Fleming), Spiderman (again Marvel), or any other franchises mentioned in my story. However, the story and its new character additions are ALL mine! 
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Pairings:  
> James Bond x Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)  
> Thor x OC  
> Peter Parker (Spiderman) x OC  
> Maria Hill x OC  
> Q x OC  
> Tony Stark (Ironman) x Eve Moneypenny  
> Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Phil Coulson  
> Bruce Banner (Hulk) x OC
> 
> Summary: Silouette St. James lost everything. In her eyes, she is broken. A roamer, a ghost, an invisible, non-existent freak. But can the Avengers, 007, Spiderman, and some lost friends heal her and bring a ghost back to life?

My life is complicated. You try balancing my … abilities, you could say, and my past. My name is Silouette. I’m … unique. I roam where I please and don’t give a crap about where I’m supposed to be. Now, you’re probably wondering how my family feels about this, right? I wouldn’t know, actually. All I know is that my brother doesn’t exactly worry about me. I don’t listen to anyone. People just do not earn my respect. You learn to show no mercy when people don’t like you. I have not smiled since I died, I haven’t laughed since they died, I haven’t sung since it spread. Now, I bet this isn’t making much sense, right? Don’t worry, all will be explained in time …


	2. Meet Q

First, may I state that I have walked the ground in every country in the world. (Hey, I said I was a roamer.) But I have never been to a place that gets as much rain as London. I mean, Come On! Does the sun never shine in this bloody city?! So, it would come as no surprise, when while I walked toward Big Ben, guess what? It started raining. (Who’da thunk?) I groaned. Glancing around, I noticed a small coffee shop about 100 yards up the street. My brisk walk turned broke into a sprint as I ran toward the building. My left foot hit the floor just beyond the door right as the first clap of thunder rang out across the dreary landscape.   
Dodging a few costumers, I escaped to the corner. My unbuttoned, tan trench coat billowed in the wake of my brisk strides. Cleanly pulling off my black shades and sliding them into my chest pocket, I leaned against the wall. My face still hidden by the coat’s high, upturned collar, I allowed my miss-matched eyes to scan the dimly lit café. My sights settled on a young man huddled away in the corner.   
He was wearing a long, green raincoat that seemed to swallow his almost too skinny frame. His pale complexion was by no means perfect and he obviously had poor eyesight, if the thick spectacles perched on his nose were anything to go by. And, yet, he caught my attention almost instantly. Maybe it was the way his eyes traveled at the same lightning pace of his fingers on their key board. Maybe it was the pure intelligence sparkling in his eyes. Anyway, I just knew that I had to at least observe him. Curiosity killed the cat, right? Well, I was praying to god that it wasn’t true. I got up off the wall and was about to start over, when my stomach growled. Uh, oh. Man, when was the last time I ate? I think it was that night in the Congo…Well, I guess it was as good a time as any to feed the old tummy. 

Q POV

My life isn’t exactly normal, but the day I met the sarcastic roamer set new standards. I’ve been able to hack government data bases since I was six. I can topple nations or rebuild them with a click of a mouse. I’m the Quartermaster of MI6 and I’m only twenty! See? Not normal! I thought I could never meet a more pessimistic, sarcastic, and violent individual than 007. Guess I was wrong.   
James Bond is the ultimate lose cannon. The psychological opposite of what a double-o should be. But, then again, I wasn’t expecting to become, dare I say it, friends with him. Man, was I wrong there.   
The smell of Earl Grey filled my nose as I typed furiously. How Bond managed to endanger our security protocols on a weekly basis was beyond me.   
“Mind if I sit here?” a feminine voice asked.   
I lifted my gaze to a tall, slender figure. All I could make out was pale skin, a perfectly shaped nose, and wavy blond hair with auburn highlights. A long, tan trench coat billowed behind her. The upturned collar kept her identity safe. A new smell reached my nose and I looked at her hands. Two muffins and a mug of what smelled like coffee. This was very strange indeed.   
“Of course.” I replied  
“Thank you.” She sat down across from me.   
Now, I began to wonder how she noticed me. I come here every morning, hide back here in the darkest corner, and no one has ever noticed me. I could only assume that she had been looking for me. The only people who look for me and hide their faces are terrorists. Under the table, I pulled out my new invention. A button with a device implanted inside, said device can be used to electrocute five men at once. I never was one for hand to hand combat. I watched as she slipped her hands out of her long sleeves. Long, slender, pale fingers wrapped around her mug. Those fingers looked so delicate, but I had a feeling they weren’t.  
“The rain here is extremely persistent.” She said dryly.   
“I suppose it is.” I replied.   
“I guess living with it helps, huh?”  
“You don’t?” I asked, suddenly confused.  
The strange girl turned and looked out the window.  
“I don’t live anywhere.”  
Wait, what? Nowhere, anywhere? I studied her, silently. What a strange girl.  
“I can honestly tell you that I wasn’t waiting for you. You simply caught my attention.”   
I blinked. Was she lying?  
“Really?”   
She nodded.  
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.  
“No.”  
I raised my eyebrows.   
“Then, why are you over here?”  
“I was lonely.”  
I rolled my eyes at her sarcasm. She sighed.  
“I needed somebody to talk to. You looked smart.”  
“Well, you were right on one account.”


	3. Her Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,   
> I am going to be making this a coming out of the closet story for Captain America. I won’t reveal his real (canon) love just yet. So for all of you who are against a gay Captain America, you were warned. 
> 
> Anyway, just sit back, relax, and READ!!!

Q POV

“May I ask for your name?” I questioned  
“Silouette.”  
“Pretty name.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Is there any meaning there?”  
“I wouldn’t really know.” She intoned dryly.  
“Your parents won’t tell you?”  
Silouette glanced around the small café nervously. Her fingers twitched. Suddenly, she snatched up a napkin from the holder. Quickly wrapping her 2 untouched muffins in it and slipping them into her pocket. She hurriedly stood and leaned toward me.  
“Not here.” She hissed.  
I jumped up as she strode out the door. Slipping my laptop into my bag and grabbing my tea, I rushed out after her.

Glancing around, I finally spotted her at the end of the street. Shades adorned her face and the hood of her coat was pulled down low over her eyes. She stood unnaturally still as she leaned up against the worn lamppost. Pulling my hood up, I briskly marched over to her. She continued to stare straight ahead as I approached, or as far as I could tell with the sunglasses.   
“Walk with me.” She said as she began to walk again.  
I fell into step next to her. This girl was officially crazy, intriguing, but crazy.  
“I haven’t smiled, laughed, or even sung in six months. I don’t talk to people unless I have to. That’s why this is such an unusual event.” She supplied.  
“Why?” I asked bluntly.  
“I like you. Very straight forward.”  
“Thank you. I pride myself for it.”   
“Have you ever heard of the Cedar Plague?”  
“No, ma’am.”  
“Hmm. I suppose not. A small village in the Scottish Highlands. Completely remote. No one stood a chance.” She mumbled  
“This plague, it has no cure?”  
“Only itself and death.”  
“Said village, everyone caught it?”  
“My brother and I were the only ones who managed to avoid it.”  
“What happened to your family?”  
“They were the last ones to catch it. It’s a quick death. Most die within a hour of catchin’ it.” She spoke softly as though their ghosts were listening.  
“What are the symptoms?”  
“Most usually pass out at the start of the infection. They wake up about 20 minutes later. When they do wake, they say it’s like your whole body goes numb, completely paralyzed. Only a few were able to talk during it. The rest is just like slowly driftin’ to sleep.” Her voice faded out.  
I pondered this in silence as we walked along.  
“Silouette, I called.  
She turned to look at me.  
“What happened to your brother?”  
When she replied, her voice was constricted with unseen pain and grief.  
“Towards the end of the epidemic, a doctor in town thought he had found a cure. My brother and I volunteered for his experiment. My brother had to drink this fluid, bathe in it and inhale a gaseous form of it. Mine was a little cruder. He strapped me into this rope harness and channeled a special form of plasma into it. I passed out during the initial -err- zap; I guess you’d call it. When I came to, my brother was wake and really pale. I walked over to see what he was looking at. While I’d been out the Cedar Plague had gotten to the doc. My brother, he kept twitching and jumping at everything. My big brother had never been skittish a day in his life. He said I looked funny, like something was there that hadn’t been before. I asked him why he was so jumpy. He couldn’t explain it.   
We got scared and ran home. No one answered the door. We were too late. Every last one of ‘em was gone. We had no reason to stay. We packed what we dared, buried them, and ran off. A few weeks after, I started to noticing weird things happening to me. He twitching and jumping had stopped, but my unique qualities were only getting worse. One day I just decided not to risk it, so I wrote my brother a letter while he slept and disappeared.” 

We continued to stroll down the dreary streets and I began to wonder whether or not I should introduce her to Bond. After a few minutes of silence, she and I started chatting casually. She gave off an obvious impression of fiery strength and *sigh* sarcasm. But never once did she laugh or smile. I wonder what she meant by sing. It was obviously important to her. I began to see many similarities between her and the notorious 007. Both were emotionally traumatized and scarred. Both using sarcasm and bitterness to cover it up and evade it. Both obviously not ready to give up working and stop fighting. Both also trapped in eternal youth. From her description of the incident, I can deduce that she won’t age and neither will her brother. After that bio-bomb explosion in the Congo, that left Bond looking like he’s 25 again, I doubt he will either. Lucky Bastard.   
They’re so alike it is impossible to tell whether they would be best friends or best enemies. Bond will think I’m a fool for trusting this mysteriously beautiful creature, but I can feel it in my bones, that she is telling the truth. She needs a friend and I’m willing to be it, even if I might want more.


End file.
